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Tuesday, March 11, 2008

I love my sister, Charlotte. She's fantastic. She accomplishes so much, is active in the school, her church and her community. I get tired just thinking of everything she does. Oh, and for relaxing, she LOVES to iron. We tease her constantly because of this, but really, ironing just soothes her soul. I think it's akin to smoothing out all the wrinkles of her life. Or something like that.

When Char was just a little girl, I must admit that the rest of us used to pick on her. She was the middle child. My parents had seven children and to keep some sort of order, my mother was always coming up with innovative and fun ideas to keep us in line. One brainstorm was the weekly "Be Nice Contest". This was a futile effort on all of our parts because inevitably, every single darn week, Charlotte would win. I mean, she really was THAT nice. And kind. And patient. She was a saint. And every week, the winner got to go to dinner with my mother while my father babysat the remaining losers. Dinner was usually always a trip to McDonald's, which was a big treat for us back in those days.

So the rest of us kids came up with a brainstorm of our own. We decided to lock Charlotte in the attic on the final day of the contest. We figured that if she wasn't out and about and being nice all the time, it would open up the chances for one of us to win the contest that week. Please don't judge me. We were children. And all we wanted was McDonald's. We really loved our sister. But at the time, we loved cheeseburgers more.

Well, she was easy enough to get into the attic and we did leave some books in there for her to peruse, and only after a little bit of crying when she realized she couldn't get out, she fell asleep. And then we um, well, we forgot she was in there. All afternoon. At dinner that night, my mother noticed that Charlotte wasn't around. And that's when we remembered. And boy howdy, were we in trouble. I was the ringleader, I will admit. And Charlotte was so nice about it. She wasn't mad. Her feelings were hurt, I'm sure. But she forgave us immediately. I mean, we did leave her some food and water during her prison time. And the books. Don't forget the books.

Needless to say, our bottoms got whipped that night. And that was the end of the Be Nice Contest. Amen.

So Happy Birthday, Charlotte. I am so glad you survived your childhood and I am so proud of the person you've become. Which is the person you always were. You're the best.

15 comments:

...Hello Kate, aww - "Happy Birthday Charlotte!" What a funny story too! Not funny in a locking your sister in the attic sort of way but in a sibling rivalry sort of way...lol :o) My heart goes out to you Charlotte!

...So Kate, do you take her out to McDonald's for her birthday every year now? You really should. Really...lol ;o)

Anonymous, I think you must be Char's husband, Dave-o. I'm glad you still think your wife is hot. I'm sure she appreciates the sentiment.

I don't think we were sick. We were kids. Hungry for cheeseburgers kids. So now you may understand why she doesn't put anything away in the attic. It's all in the basement, isn't it? Hmmm. Sorry we did that to her.

Kate, I remember, kinda, that attic story, Char was upset. I don't remember getting my butt whooped though, probably because I didn't do anything mean to Char, being the baby.

Can't wait to hear the horror story when my birthday comes around, like, oh say, wrapping me up in a rug, playing scary music on the old piano and getting louder and louder and then locking me in the den downstairs in Sommers Point, no wonder I don't like basements.

My name is Kate. I live in Maryland with a border collie named George in an old manor house that predates the Revolutionary War. I began this blog in 2007 to share my photography with my family and friends. Welcome.

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